Scar(r)ed
by DisenchantedDestroya
Summary: Sam's been keeping a dangerous secret but nothing stays a secret for long when you go to high school. He just didn't want Dean to find out this way. Sad!Sam and brotherly!Dean. May be triggering. One-shot.


One minute, everything is perfect; their dad is out on a hunt, Dean is tucking into some cherry pie and Sam is picking at some sort of salad, dodging his brother's attempts at getting some pie into him. They're both laughing at some _stupid _joke that shouldn't even be funny and, for once, Sam almost feels like a normal kid.

The next minute, everything falls to complete and utter shit.

At least, Sam thinks it has. It's hard to tell, what with his brother clinging onto his phone as though it's the only thing keeping him afloat in a sea of despair. His eyes are fixated on Sam, eating away at the sixteen-year-old in a way that is neither angry nor disappointed; just… heartbroken.

"Okay, thank you." Dean huffs out a sigh, nodding at whatever words are being uttered to him through his cell. "Yeah, I'll tell Dad. Thanks."

The phone is then thrown across the room and Sam winces as he hears it crack against the wall. He sinks into the wooden chair, suddenly finding the salad on the table in front of him to be the most interesting thing in existence.

Why? Because he knows it's over.

He knew people were getting suspicious. Dean constantly asking why he was wearing hoodies in the middle of summer, the odd kid at school shooting him weird looks whenever they caught sight of that evil flash of red poking out from under his sleeves.

It's funny, Sam thinks, because he's just been _aching_ to get caught but now he thinks he has, he is _terrified._ He wanted Dean to know and to make him stop, to take away all of the sharp objects so that he can't harm himself again because he knows it's wrong and it _scares _him that he can paint himself red like this, but now he's not so sure.

He's not sure that he knows how to function without _cutting_ anymore. It's all he can think about.

He's stirred out of his thoughts by his brother yanking him out his chair by the shoulders, rough but not harsh enough to cause any pain. The last thing Dean wants is to hurt his brother.

Before Sam has the chance to notice the single tear dribbling down his big brother's face he's being pulled into a hug. The searing scars all over his body scream at him to pull away, to jump into an ice bath to cool the burning pain away but he can't. Instead, he tightens his arms around Dean, burying his face into his chest and allowing himself to enjoy the oh-so-rare cuddle.

After all, once everything's out in the open he doubts his brother will ever want to touch him again.

"That was your school." Dean sounds like his throat is blocked, like he's choking on something that just won't dislodge. "They said that… people have seen _things_ and…"

Dean pushes Sam away, still keeping a hold on his shoulders as though afraid his baby brother will disappear into thin air if he lets go. Darkly, he thinks that his baby brother already is gone. And that _kills_ Dean; the one thing he's meant to protect and love and care for and he's just let it die.

"Sammy, tell me it isn't true." The older brother sounds so lost, so innocent that Sam finds it hard to remember that Dean's twenty; he wants nothing more than to tell his big brother what he wants to hear but no, there have been enough lies over the past few months as it is. "Shit, Sammy, they said they think you've been… hurting yourself. Cutting yourself."

"Yes. I have."

Everything goes silent. They can't even hear their own hearts beating, their own lungs inhaling, their own minds whirring. Most likely because everything has stopped, both boys lacking the want for time to carry on. If time carries on then all of this has to be real and Dean will feel like a failure and Sam will feel like a freak.

All of a sudden, everything speeds up again. Dean's head is too full to make sense, the only thing he can comprehend right now is that he was supposed to destroy everything that dare threaten _his_ Sammy but now that thing is Sammy himself. And that _devastates _Dean.

Dean's hands fall off of Sam's shoulders and his right hand draws back in a fist. Sam does nothing to dodge it, practically falls into the punch and lets it knock him back. He doesn't care that it leaves his face throbbing and his heart breaking.

"Dammit, Sam!" He knows he's not angry at his little brother and he sure as hell shouldn't have punched him, but he just doesn't know how to cope with this; how does anyone cope with finding out that their kid brother has been self-harming? "Right, I need you to show me, okay?"

Without even thinking, Sam shakes his head, backing away from Dean until he hits his bed, looking very much like a frightened animal. Not that Dean can really blame him right now, yet that only makes all of this hurt all the more.

Gently, with a comforting smile on his face, the older Winchester edges towards Sammy.

"Okay, Sammy, okay. You don't have to show me then." He reaches out and pulls his baby brother into a hug, breathing out a sigh of relief when Sammy grips onto him like a limpet. "Not right now."

"I'm sorry, De." Sam whispers, his voice so broken that Dean wouldn't recognise it as Sam's voice if the kid wasn't the only other person in the room. "I really am. I wanted to tell you, honestly I did."

The brothers lock eyes and it calms both of them instantly. Dean can only see sincerity and Sam can only see loving comfort, the brothers showing each other exactly what needs to be seen. Apart from the bruise forming just below Sammy's eye, right where Dean punched him. In his mind, Sam feels like he deserves it and a million more but to Dean it feels like a hanging offence.

Either way, they've lived enough to know now that what's done is done and can't be changed. So neither allows himself to dwell on it.

"Just tell me why, Sammy." Dean lets out a long breath, releasing his brother and they both plonk down onto the bed, his arm still around Sammy's shoulders. "Did, did I do something?"

"_What? No!_" The last thing Sam ever wants is for his big brother, the one who might as well be his parents too, blaming himself for Sam's screw-ups. "It's just hard to explain."

"Then try. For me."

Sam can't say no to that, not after everything this has already put Dean through. So he takes a deep, quivering breath and tries to put the words together in his head. Words usually come easily to him but right now every syllable he's ever uttered is running away from his lips, leaving him with nothing to say. He'll find something though, for Dean.

"It started a few months ago." He leans back against Dean, gaining every kind of support possible. "Dad and I had a fight. I'd got bad marks on a test at school. Some kids were teasing me." He sighs, feeling stupid that such little, mundane things led him to this; he's sure they felt worse at the time. "It all built up. Then one day you and Dad were both out, I was cleaning weapons and it just, I don't know, _happened._"

The older brother, the one who all of a sudden feels way too young, doesn't know what to think.

Of course he knew Sam and their father had their issues but he'd never once doubted that Sammy knew their dad loves him. He never figured that bad marks or stupid comments from even stupider kids would get to Sam.

No.

He had thought that if any of the above had been true enough to make Sam hurt then his baby brother would have come to him. Now he just feels stupid for thinking that; Sammy's stubborn, hell, he's a _Winchester_. He needs to be told when it's okay to ask for comfort because the kid will never go looking for it if he thinks it'll show weakness. That's just how they've been raised. And for that high crime, Dean could easily throw their father a punch right now.

Instead, he just holds Sammy tighter, trying not to think about what lies beneath the fabric of his baby brother's hoodie.

"I'd read somewhere that it helps."

"Did it?"

Dean knows the question isn't all that fair but right now everything's too messed up for him to fully care. He just _needs_ to understand where it all went wrong, how he let this happen to _his_ Sammy. Because if he knows that then he'll know how to stop it from ever happening again.

"For a while, yeah." Dean squeezes his eyes shut, Sam's cold tone piercing him like a silver bullet. "It was a release. But then I needed it more and more, deeper and deeper." Sam lifts his head and their eyes lock; Dean's never seen his baby brother look so terrified. "I'm scared, De."

A tear trickles down Sammy's face and Dean thumbs it away, hating that the one thing hurting his brother the most is the one thing he can't ever destroy; himself.

For Sam's part, his head is pounding and everything stings. He just wants to sleep, right here and now, leaning against Dean with his big brother there to look after him.

"I'm scared too." Dean's not sure if it's the right thing to say but he wants Sam to be honest here so it's only fair that he is too. "Do you know what my biggest fear is?" Sammy shakes his head, looking six instead of sixteen and so very lost. It makes Dean's heart clench. "Losing you."

For a moment that's all that needs to be said and Dean lets his brother get away with not saying anything more, just allows him to nestle into his big brother's chest like whenever he had a nightmare as a toddler. He misses those days, back when the only thing he had to protect Sammy from was the made-up monster born of late nights and too much sugar.

Both boys have a feeling it's going to be a long night. Sam never has been able to sleep with things on his mind and Dean can't recall a single night he's slept through whilst knowing that his brother is in pain. It just can't be done.

But then a terrifying thought pops into Sam's head.

"Don't tell Dad."

"Sammy, I-"

"_Please_." The boy begs, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, De. I'll stop, I promise."

It seems like a fair deal; Dean keeps quiet and Sammy won't cut anymore. The older Winchester isn't stupid though, he knows that habits, _addictions_, like this won't just evaporate. There needs to be a reason, a real drive for someone to give something like this up.

"Why?"

He looks his little brother in the eyes, holding the gaze and hoping to God that his baby brother says the right thing here because he really doesn't want to tell their dad. He knows John should know about this, that he has a _right_ to know but if Sammy doesn't want him knowing then he should respect that.

Then again though, he should do what's best for Sammy; not what Sammy wants him to do.

"Why will you stop?"

Sam fixes Dean with a look so full of fierce determination that it makes his heart boom in pride. He can tell that his brother doesn't want this anymore, that he's just a scared little kid in need of guidance and that Sam will do anything to get out of the dark hole that he's fallen into, no matter how much time and pain it takes.

"For _you_, De."

* * *

**A/N:**

Thank you very much for reading! This is something that I really wanted to write because the issue of self-harm hits close to home for me and I find that writing about it helps. I'm not really sure if I got the characterizations right (I apologize for any OOC-ness), but I hope you liked it anyway. Please let me know what you think! :)


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